


Find My Scars

by agrajag



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agrajag/pseuds/agrajag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><b>if you want to love me,</b><br/>find my scars,<br/>wherever they may be;<br/>on my wrists, where my heart should be,<br/>and love them even more<br/>than you would me. - Courtney Snodgrass</p>
</div><i>The number of serious injuries due to car accidents in Great Britain were never as severe as in the States. In fact, in 2012, when Hermann's accident occurred, the number had decreased by .04% to 23,039 --- making the odds of Hermann being involved in a serious accident incredibly slim. And yet, it happened.</i><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>15 May 2012. He was 24. He had just finished his doctorate.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Approximately five minutes later, Hermann awoke to sirens and lights and a flashlight being shone into his eyes.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Hey, glad to see you back with us," the paramedic said, her voice calm and soothing. "Can you tell us your name?"</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Hermann."</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"That's great, Hermann. I'm Lily. I'm going to do my best to help you, alright?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Find My Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/350.html?thread=459870#t459870) prompt at the kink meme.
> 
>  
> 
> _I want some fic (or art) of Hermann being self-conscious about extensive scarring from whatever happened to his leg. Maybe there's really nasty scars all around his knee, maybe it goes all the way up to his hip, maybe it stretches all up his side, idk._
> 
>  
> 
> _Bonus points for Hermann not wanting to take his clothes off during sex, and double bonus points for Newt kissing and tracing his scars and telling him they're nothing to be ashamed of._
> 
>  
> 
> _I really just want some fluff fills okay, lots of fluff._
> 
>  
> 
> This is set pre-movie. It contains relatively graphic depictions of a car accident and post rehabilitation.

Grand total, the accident itself occurred over two minutes. Two minutes for the drunk driver to swerve off the road and shatter the bone in Hermann's leg, sending him flying thirty meters forward. Two minutes for Hermann to still be conscious enough to lift himself up, despite the excruciating pain, to watch the car miss him by mere centimeters and crash into the ditch on the side of the road. Two minutes for Hermann to fall back down and watch everything go black before the ambulances arrived on the scene. Two minutes that changed the rest of Hermann's life.

Numbers always had come easy to him. Numbers could seem like he was distancing himself, but they were comforting.

The number of serious injuries due to car accidents in Great Britain were never as severe as in the States. In fact, in 2012, when Hermann's accident occurred, the number had decreased by .04% to 23,039 --- making the odds of Hermann being involved in a serious accident incredibly slim. And yet, it happened.

15 May 2012. He was 23. He had just finished his doctorate.

Approximately five minutes later, Hermann awoke to sirens and lights and a flashlight being shone into his eyes.

"Hey, glad to see you back with us," the paramedic said, her voice calm and soothing. "Can you tell us your name?"

"Hermann."

"That's great, Hermann. I'm Lily. I'm going to do my best to help you, alright?"

The pain of the initial impact did nothing to prepare him for when the paramedics moved him onto the stretcher. He didn't want to, but he was crying out in pain, scrambling at the temporary splint they had attached. Lily grabbed his hand, but instead of simply preventing him from damaging their work, she continued to hold it even once they were inside the ambulance.

"You're very brave," she told him. And Hermann knew her words were meaningless --- that she would have told anyone in this situation that. That he wasn't brave at all because he was still crying, watching the towels around him soak up the blood that was everywhere --- but he allowed himself to believe them.

Then it was nearly seven months of rehabilitation. His leg was not only broken; he had to wait for the tissue damage to heal first before he could even begin re-training himself to walk. That required two months in a wheelchair. Two months of changing extensive bandages twice a day. Two months of living back with his parents, who had to help him in and out of the chair several times a day. Hermann felt utterly weak and helpless. In the end, he may have pushed himself too soon, graduating from the chair to crutches the day after his doctor informed him the bandages were no longer necessary.

Putting even the minimal amount of weight on the toe of his foot would send Hermann's stomach reeling. He worked hard every day doing the exercises and stretches they taught him at the rehabilitation center. He knew he would never make any progress if he felt defeated from the get go, but it was difficult staying positive when simply lifting his leg up was unbearable. The crutches were a nuisance, as well, causing him to trip and instinctively standing normally to save himself only to fall anyway due to the pain.

Eventually, Hermann was able to move his leg close to normal. He finally felt as if he was getting somewhere and started using the cane, which he would only have to rely on for a short while. It was the perfect excuse to continue lying to himself, and everyone around him, about how far from normal he still truly was.

A cane is held in the opposite hand of the injured leg and moves in tandem with that side. Canes can support up to 40% of the user's body weight, leaving only 60% weight on the bad leg. While Hermann's pain had improved immensely, he felt as if he'd never be able to walk without help of some sort ever again. Even just the 40% was enough to make walking feel like less of a chore. His doctor expected him to be able to walk without the cane within four to six weeks, but as Hermann depended on it more and more, the doctor eventually wrote him a new prescription for pain medication to "refill as needed" and told Hermann he no longer had to attend rehab.

He was 23 and he already felt like an old man.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scar ran from mid-shin up to his hip. It had faded slightly over time, but in a way, Hermann would always see it as red and ugly like the first time he saw his leg after the accident. To say he was self conscious about it was an understatement. He refused to let anyone see it. He no longer could go swimming (even though it was still possible as long as he stayed in a shallow pool) or to the gym (continuing his daily regime to keep his leg as healthy as possible in his apartment) and risk someone noticing. He wouldn't allow himself to wear shorts even on the most retched days during the summer, and in fact, his whole wardrobe changed over the first year after the accident. He figured if he felt like an old man, he might as well dress like one. He always was more conservative, anyway. Then there was the matter of being intimate with someone. Hermann's solution?

_Don't._

His family worried about him being alone, but Hermann told them his work was more important --- and he made sure it was. He threw himself into numbers and became one of the best in his field at a very young age. When he was offered the position by Marshal Pentecost, Hermann couldn't refuse. It was the happiest he had been since the accident. That was until he met the man who was to be his partner.

"Newt Geiszler," he yelled over the dreadful music coming from the, frankly, ancient boombox on his desk.

"Could you please turn that racket off?" Hermann asked.

"Dude, what are you? My grandpa?"

Later on, Hermann would recognize that Newt was joking and there was no real malice behind the statement. At the time, however, he actually felt insulted and he wasn't sure why. He had learned to not pay attention to how others perceived him, and yet, he suddenly cared quite a bit what the ridiculous looking man --- with his skinny tie and skinny pants and skinny everything --- thought. He couldn't possibly let him know that, though.

"Well, you certainly are acting like a child," he retorted.

Geiszler actually laughed at that. "I like your spunk," he said as he turned the music down. "But the music stays. Otherwise I'm just gonna talk your ear off all day."

"Now we can't have that," Hermann replied and he could slap himself. It wasn't meant to sound flirtatious. He hadn't even been interested in anyone since the accident, making his chosen path of celibacy easy, but there was something about Geiszler. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Maybe it was the fact that they settled into a completely comfortable relationship, skipping over any awkwardness that usually comes with spending so much time with someone new. Instead of skirting around each other in the lab they shared, they argued like an old married couple and didn't even try to hide any of their idiosyncrasies. To outsiders it would seem they didn't get along in the least, and they wouldn't blame them for thinking so considering they were exact opposites, but it was just how they were. It wasn't long before Hermann realized he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Which is why he had to leave or find a new partner. It was all too dangerous. He still caught himself saying things that were meant to be reprimanding but that came out stupidly fond, and he noticed that Newt --- _Geiszler, not Newt_ \--- was looking at him differently. The first person ever to look past the wall he had built up and past the cane and limp and past the frumpy clothes.

No, it was too dangerous. Hermann couldn't allow it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermann kissed Newt first. They had been working late when his leg started to hurt. He told Newt that he could make it to his room, where his medication was, but still Newt insisted on walking him there to make sure he made it. He didn't leave, though, instead fetching Hermann a glass of water so he wouldn't have to take the pills dry and something inside of Hermann snapped. He'd been denying himself any sort of happiness outside of his professional life for too long.

And so he kissed Newt.

And Newt kissed him back.

"Didn't think you had it in ya, Grandpa," Newt muttered, when they pulled apart, carrying on the joke from when they first met.

"It was simply appalling how long you were keeping me waiting," Hermann replied. It was most likely the sappiest thing he had ever said.

"Maybe I wanted to get you out of the lab. Wine and dine you, first."

"I should warn you, offering me some of your Ramen does not count as a date."

"Damn it. There goes my plans."

Hermann laughed and then, because he could, kissed Newt again. It wasn't long before they were lying on Hermann's bed, Newt straddling Hermann's waist, wary of his leg as he ran his hands lightly down Hermann's sides. It may have seemed they were moving too fast, but they had been working together for nearly a year and Hermann couldn't wait any longer. He unbuttoned Newt's shirt, pushing it off as he took in the tattoo spanning his chest.

"A kaiju?"

"Okay, like, I know I'm supposed to hate them. But I study them. They're my entire life's work. And they're _interesting_."

"You don't have to justify it to me. I may think it's strange to want to have something so terrifying on your skin forever, but..." Hermann stopped to take a deep breath. He tried desperately to not think of his scar tissue. "I won't judge you for it."

Newt smiled softly and traced his thumb along Hermann's lower lip. "Dude, I think I... I think it's time you lost some of your clothes too."

Hermann lifted up so Newt was able to work his sweater and button up off, but stilled his hand when he went for his belt. "Let me," he explained when Newt looked at him, confused. Hermann undid the button and unzipped his trousers enough to fit a hand into his pants. "There."

"If I'm moving too fast, you just have to say something."

"No, it's not that. I just don't feel comfortable taking my trousers off."

"So I _am_ going too fast," Newt said with a sigh as he rolled off of Hermann.

"No, don't leave," Hermann said, his voice cracking more than he could bear. He rested his hand on Newt's shoulder, as if that could truly stop him from walking out of the room. "It's not because of you or the fact that we're doing so much after our first kiss. It's because I never have been comfortable after..."

"After what?"

"After the accident."

Hermann expected Newt to show pity or for the entire moment to be ruined by him trying to awkwardly joke his way through it, but instead he kissed Hermann again --- slower and sweeter.

"You don't have to be embarrassed or disgusted or whatever it is," Newt explained when he pulled back. "I'd like to try and help, but I'm not gonna force you to face your issues about it, like, head on right now."

Hermann huffed out a little laugh. "Yes, I believe it'll take quite longer than one night to work through it," he said. But he knew then that he wanted to do it. With Newt. "We can try and if it's too much..."

"I'll stop."

"Good."

Newt took off Hermann's trousers, slowly and carefully, and ran his hands up and down his exposed legs, much like he did earlier to his sides. He didn't even look at the scar at first, and when he finally did, he didn't gawk but he didn't hide that he was staring at it. Just when Hermann thought he couldn't bare it any longer, Newt leaned down and began trailing kisses up and down his leg.

"You don't have to," Hermann whispered.

"I want to," Newt said simply.

He placed one last kiss at Hermann's hip before moving back up to kiss his lips. As he did, he continued to gently rub Hermann's leg.

They didn't go much farther that first night. Hermann managed to last ten more minutes before he insisted they pull the blanket over them. Newt immediately stopped and complied, even though he still was wearing his jeans and it wasn't that cold out. Hermann rested his head on Newt's chest, right atop the kaiju tattoo, and traced his fingers along the lines of colour.

"I was 23."

"No," Newt interrupted. "You don't have to. Not until you're ready."

"Thank you."

"C'mon. You have to know I'd do anything for you, man. I think I love you."

"Even though I'm damaged goods, as they say?"

"Even more so because of that."

And Hermann fell asleep like that, the first time in years, not hiding from who he was.


End file.
